


Teach Me A Lesson

by Masamiya



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Eggsy needs to be spanked, Harry is a very dedicated mentor, Harry is alive, M/M, Slow Build, misuse of the famous umbrella in chapter five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy had always looked for people’s approval; the problem was that the methods he used in order to catch their attention were putting him in trouble more often than not. (AKA the fic in wich Eggsy gets the spanking he deserves)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Teach me a Lesson](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452260) by [Masamiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya). 



> This is a translation of a finished work I did in french. So don't worry, it's not a WIP!
> 
> I'd like to thank the fantastic Franzi (marvelousagentcarter.tumblr.com) for her beta work!
> 
> Enjoy the fic <3

 

 

On a mucky table the still full Guiness pint was slowly warming up, drops of condensation dripping all along the glass. Harry had ordered it without thinking, without even being thirsty, just because he was feeling nostalgic. Strange how he could already feel nostalgic about his old life after only a few hours.

 

After the slaughter at the church, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to the Kingsman’s headquarters- he couldn’t call himself a gentleman anymore, not after having killed so many people: it had been a massacre and he was now a mass murderer. A status incompatible with Gallahad´s. Going back to Kingsman would be unethical.

 

His former colleagues probably thought he was dead, and it was for the best. He briefly wondered if Eggsy had listened to him, if he had stayed in his office and had watched him perform his very last mission from the CCTV camera, or if he had decided to be pig-headed as  always and wasn’t aware of what happened.

But in the end it didn’t matter, not anymore.

Harry had taken refuge in the shabbiest pub he could find- one that could remind him of the one where he had an almost identical Guiness with Eggsy. He was seeking comfort in the familiar habit of ordering a beer that he found himself unable to savor, and he didn’t knew what he was going to do next. For now, he was in that bar like in a cocoon, hoping for time to stop, for things to settle down by themselves, even if he knew that he would have to get out of here and face the situation soon.

From behind the counter, the barman, a guy whose round belly was a living add for the quality of his brewed beer, was throwing guarded glances at him.

Maybe it was because for a good hour, Harry had stayed here, eyes riveted on his  beverage without taking a single sip. Or maybe it was the blood stains maculating his suit. The barman’s glances were the least of his problems: he just hoped that Kingsman had took the necessary precautions after seeing Valentine’s confession via his glasses, that at least his disastrous mission hadn't been completely useless.

 

He had to make a decision quickly. He couldn’t afford to stay near the carnage just watching a beer warming up like nothing happened. Soon enough, Merlin was going to notice that his corpse wasn’t resting on the cobblestone where it should be, and would think about the new gadget he had added to the glasses. He would know that Harry had pressed the button triggering the wave that slowed down the bullet meant to kill him- enough to make it harmless.

Valentine had been way too afraid of blood to check if  the corpse he had left behind him really was one.

 

Soon, Kingsman would try to contact him, to take him back, and Harry wasn’t ready. He would never be ready again, not after fucking up that badly. It was time to retire. Incidentally, he had left all his equipment in the church, and his glasses on the burning cobblestone.

 

Disappearing was an easy thing for a man who used to occupy the position of Gallahad. Not only because he had the necessary abilities to do so, but also because the kind of life he used to have was dangerous enough for him to make sure he wasn’t leaving any ties behind. No one to mourn him in case an accident happened. Except Eggsy, maybe, but he wasn’t worried: his protégé knew how to manage himself, he had proved it during his training.

During his _unfinished_ training. They had parted on a disagreement, Harry reminded himself, and suddenly his throat felt dry.

He gulped down his warmed beer and decided to look out for Eggsy- just to make the sure the kid wasn’t going to put himself in trouble.

 

 

 _______________

 

 

“Roxy!”

 

Warned by Eggsy’s scream, she ducked and narrowly dodged the machete thrown by one of the Mexican handymen guarding their target. He couldn’t take the time to check if she was going to make it, not when three guys larger than Harry’s wardrobe were joining the battle armed to the teeth and targeting him. He instinctively opened the umbrella he took at Harry’s after his death and suffered through the first round of bullets, all the while looking for a way to get to their target quickly.

They were too many guards- he was going to have to clean this up first.

 

He pressed a button on the handle of his umbrella and released an explosion big enough to distract the three shooters in front of him, giving him a few seconds to attack. He left the umbrella and rolled on the ground to unbalance one of the dudes with a kick on his shins before getting up to face the two others.

 

It had all became very mechanical for him: a hit with his palm onto one guy’s solar plexus to cut his breath and he was already turning around to knock out the other with a high kick on his temple. Like always, the fight was unequal and unfair, his enemies relying too much on their guns to actually take the advantage.

 

The first guard was getting up, hesitating as he saw that Eggsy had neutralized his accomplices in just a few seconds; this hesitation cost him his life. Roxy, who was done with her adversaries, approached him from behind and broke his neck with her bare hands. He fell at the feet of the guard who took the hit to his plexus and was beginning to breathe again. It was very regrettable, and Eggsy couldn’t decently let him get any oxygen in again. He forced a well-placed kick in his Adam apple, smashing his trachea.

The target, a man in his fifties, was going back step by step in front of the Kingsman agents. Terrified. Eggsy let Roxy corner him against a wall, losing interest for the situation; for him, the mission was done.

He got Harry’s umbrella back, checked that the bodyguards weren’t going to get up while they were finishing their mission, his movements rhythmed by the pointless pleas of their target trying to save his arse by offering them money.

 

Stupid, stupid, all their targets were the same, thinking that they could buy the agents who came to eliminate them, like there was a single chance that Eggsy would do such a thing when Harry Hart in person had instilled the proper values of a gentleman in him.

 

It seemed to be a lot of fun for Roxy who was letting the poor guy offer absurd amounts, her gun pointed on the target’s forehead, a forehead all sweaty from fear and panic. He let her do her thing, watching her smile widening as the old pig was offering her a private island in the Caribbean where she would die of boredom in less than two weeks, and thought that she liked playing with her food a little bit too much in order to be efficient.

The day had been exhausting and he really wanted to go home in order to get some sleep. Two steps later, he was next to Roxy and was wrapping a hand around hers to push the trigger. She pouted at him while the target was slowly slipping down onto the floor, leaving a disgusting trail of blood along the wall.

 

He shrugged.

 

“It was taking too much time”, he said.

 

“He could have confessed something interesting”, Roxy protested.

 

“You can always search the house, if you need information”, he replied before taking the corpse’s pulse, more by habit than anything. He knew better than anyone else than a bullet in the head, at point-blank range, was something lethal. He tried to let go of the memory of Harry falling on the ground. Now wasn’t the time.

Standing back up, he noticed that the bullet had both gone through the target and the wall. But it wasn’t stuck in it, no, it had burst through in a very neat hole, revealing a hidden room on the other side. One that wasn’t on the plans of the house Merlin had provided them with.

 

He stepped back, took the gun from Roxy’s hands and emptied the magazine in the wall. His partner quickly understood what he was trying to do and kicked the plaster already damaged by the bullets, her boots making large sections of the wall fall on the still fresh corpse of the house owner.

 

They entered in a small room, an office looking strangely like Merlin’s with all the surveillance screens covering the walls. Roxy whistled impressed, and started searching the office without noticing that Eggsy was frozen on the spot, his eyes glued to the screens.

 

Every fucking screen was showing Harry’s house, from different angles, covering every room. He gulped.

 

“Hey, Roxy, come and look at that.”

 

She approached and frowned.

 

“It’s your home, right? Did you know he was watching you?”

 

Eggsy didn’t answer at first. Yes, he lived here, but it was first and foremost Harry’s house. If the monitoring had been placed a few months before, then he wasn’t necessarily the one observed. In any way, a Kingsman agent was targeted.

 

“I’ll talk to Merlin about it”, he answered evasively. Roxy nodded and started searching the office again, not at all bothered. Yeah, he was going to talk to Merlin. Maybe. First, he wanted more information.

He was taking at heart everything concerning Harry Hart and he didn’t know if Merlin would tell him if it was his mentor who had been the target of that monitoring. Eggsy wanted to know why the cameras had been put there, and he was going to collect as much information as possible while he was here.

The tiredness he had felt a few moments ago was gone, leaving place to a nervousness and restlessness typical in all the situations where he could get information about Harry. It was his only chance to try and learn a bit more about him, now that the guy was dead. Not that it would be useful, given that he wasn’t here anymore, but Eggsy wasn’t at peace, hadn’t been since his death.

 

He needed to know what had led Harry to his death, hoping to understand what had happened by understanding the man; wanted to know if things could have gone differently. He was waking up every morning in Harry’s bed hoping that he could suddenly go back in time and change the course of the events.

 

He wore his suits, his umbrella, slept in his pajamas- was trying to give him his life back by personifying him.

It wasn’t really a sane way to live his life, but even Merlin had assigned him Gallahad’s name and position, so he felt justified. He had been Harry’s protégé, it was natural that he was also the one honoring his memory.

 

He approached the computer linked to the screens and started to rummage through the files. There were months and months of records, but in a complete disorder, most of the files without a name. He’d need more time to determine wether the cameras had been installed before or after Harry’s death.

He sighed. They probably had been installed afterwards- a spy as good as Harry would have noticed that kind of monitoring. But not him. Eggsy wasn’t a bad Gallahad, but once again, he had to face the fact that he wasn’t worth the previous one. Harry wasn’t easily replaced.

 

Roxy was still rummaging through the office, efficient, taking pictures of all the documents she deemed as important with her glasses.

Unoccupied, he clicked on a video archived, fast-forwarding it. Maybe he was going to find a clue, anything.

In front of his eyes was a house empty of life, without any movement. He selected another video. In the living-room, JB was scratching Harry’s leather couch before settling down on one of the satin cushions.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his dog treating the precious furniture with that lack of respect. Harry surely had trained Mr Pickles way better than that.

 

He chose a few more videos- most of them uninteresting, showing the house slowly dusting up as Eggsy was going through missions in foreign countries; showing his mother picking up the mail for him while he was away; a video of him going thought the entire house naked after a shower, looking desperately for a battery for his electric razor- Harry would have had a heart attack if he had seen that-; a video showing the front of the house and Eggsy’s back, opening the door before entering.

The resemblance with Harry was striking, seen from behind. But after all, it was the goal he was trying to reach, by styling his hair the same way, by wearing his suits. It was like he was still trying to gain Harry’s approval, way after his death. He watched that video again, feeling a bit pathetic.

 

One didn’t need a diploma to see that he had trouble grieving.

Behind him, Roxy exclaimed:

“Is that Harry? How long that house had been under surveillance?”

 

He shook his head.

“Nah, it’s me. The video his from about a month ago.”

 

Roxy reached over his shoulder and pushed the pause button.

‘It really looks like Harry”, she whispered with hesitancy.

 

Eggsy closed his eyes, counted to ten in order to keep his emotions under control. He had developed that technique when he was younger, when Dean entered his mom’s life and things began to turn to shit.

 

“Harry’s dead, Rox.”

 

She didn’t answer, her eyes still fixed on the screen. It was too much. Eggsy wasn’t going to risk his pretty arse in missions all over the world to find it on videos, molded in one of Harry’s costumes, on one of his enemies’ computers. He had other things to do than fantasizing, even for a second, that it wasn’t him on the screen.

Things were hard enough for him as they were. He got up and left the room to start cleaning up. There were a dozen of bodies who weren’t going to dissolve by themselves, after all, and Roxy was big enough of a girl to deal on her own with what was on the damn computer.

Now that he knew he was the one targeted by the monitoring, and not Harry, the videos had lost all of their interest. Merlin could deal with it later, he didn’t care.

 

It wasn’t his problem anymore. His mission was over.

 

 

 _______________

 

 

Merlin assured him that he had sent someone to take care of the cameras, but now that Eggsy knew he had been surveilled, he had become mistrustful. A bit paranoid, he had searched the places where he thought the cameras had been hidden, trying to locate them by remembering the angles he had noticed on the screens.

For a reason or another, Merlin had let them all in place, except for the ones in the bathroom and the toilets, maybe to give him a bit of intimacy; but he was still exploiting the surveillance system the enemy had set up. The problem was, Kingsman shouldn’t have a reason to survey him.

He didn’t confront Merlin on the subject- after all, he had nothing to hide, and Merlin must have seen Eggsy finding the cameras still in place. Kingsman knew that he was aware.

 

And really, it wasn’t bothering him that much; until the day when he came home to find a post-it on the kitchen table saying that Harry would have been terribly disappointed to see him drinking tea sold in individual plastic bags every morning, and advising him to get a tea ball as soon as possible.

 

It was a low blow. Everyone knew that Eggsy had been looking for his mentor’s approval when he was alive. He would gladly have ignored that invasive piece of advice, hadn’t he known that a tea ball was in the cutlery drawer, proving that indeed Harry preferred using it than industrial teas. He didn’t say a thing and simply put a spoon of tea in the small slivery sphere the next morning.

 

In memory of Harry.

 

The post-it kept appearing on the table. He wasn’t sure Merlin was the one writing them- he was he kind of guy who gave advice no one asked for, but was also very seriously busy and maybe didn’t have time to dissect his habits, or to come put notes at his house.

 

It was mystery- but one he wasn’t in a hurry to solve. As long as the notes seemed to lead him in the right direction- let two inches of your shirt exceed your sleeves; a gentleman has to unbutton his suit before sitting down; please throw away that after-shave with a vulgar scent- he didn’t see why he should protest.

 

It was certain that Harry could have given him that kind of advice, had he been alive longer. He didn’t want to know who was leaving the notes, and preferred to imagine Harry’s voice giving him these advices.

 

After every mission, he returned home wondering if he was going to find another piece of advice. Life was less dull. No matter if it was at work or because of the post-its, he did what he was asked to do. It gave him new goals. (Deep inside, he knew that Harry giving him that kind of treatment would have resulted in him trying to defy him, to get a reaction from his always composed face. The exchange would have been ten times more gratifying.)

 

He didn’t talk about it, didn’t mention the notes to anyone. He was certain that Roxy wasn’t in on it, because she had noticed with surprise some of the changes he had done. One day, after a mission that had ended up with a very violent and physical confrontation, he had found an entire page of comments regarding the way he was fighting.

Eggsy was fast, and was giving hits while hoping that his adversary wouldn’t have time to hit back and therefore wouldn’t protect himself, leaving his sides and face and generally all of his person unprotected. The note had a reproachful undertone that wasn’t unlike the one Harry used to employ every time he was worried about him, and the resemblance made his stomach ache.

 

After that, he stopped reading the notes.

 

They kept on piling up on the kitchen’s table anyway. The author was persisting. Eggsy started to go through Kingsman’s archives in order to compare everyone’s handwriting to the one, elegant and old-fashioned, figuring on the notes.

It wasn’t Merlin, like he suspected, or Roxy. It wasn’t Caradoc or Gavain; Percival wasn’t taking any notes, but Eggsy and he weren’t really close.

 

He decided to store up the notes, still unread, in a metallic box.

 

He threw one of his T-shirts over the living-room’s camera one evening, only to find it back washed, folded at his feet on the bed in the morning.

 

When he cut with a knife the wires of the kitchen’s camera, a brand new one appeared two days later with a note saying that his playstation had been sold to finance it.

 

It was war.

 

Kingsman’s tailor made a face when Eggsy asked for an orange suit, but made it without asking any question. In his defense, he saw a lot of weird thing on a daily basis. Eggsy swaggered in it a whole day in front of the cameras and found three days later a tweed suit with a veston in his wardrobe.

 

When he put a bottle of Label 5 in the middle of Harry’s vintage bottles, promptly, absolutely all of the alcohol in the house disappeared. Obviously, he wasn’t deemed worthy to drink anything at all.

 

He bought some cheap beer, the kind sold in a twenty-pack, and tackled the task of emptying them conscientiously, toasting with the camera with each bottle. He could have sworn that he fell asleep on the couch when his phone woke him up by vibrating on the bedside table of the bedroom the next morning. He had one hell of a hangover, and on the phone, Merlin was asking him to come ASAP as reinforcement in the house of a target- it seemed that even Roxy wasn’t indestructible.

When he came home to nurse a black eye, it was difficult not to blame his excesses of the previous day for his bad performance. He smiled when he noticed that someone had thrown away the empty bottles while he was away.

 

Harry’s bed never seemed as welcoming as that night. He was going to go to bed early, read a bit before. He chose a random book in the stuffed bookcase- it seemed boring, arse long, written in small characters. Harry didn’t have any comic books.

He picked another one and smiled: this one had been annotated by Harry. He decided to read it, more because of the notes than for the book in itself. He sat comfortably in the living-room and started to read. Harry had crossed entire sentences, and his annotations were showing that he was in total disagreement with everything the author had to say. Typical.

 

As the pages passed before his eyes, Eggsy began to feel uneasy. He couldn’t precisely point out what was bothering him- maybe he was beginning to think that he was crossing a line; maybe his obsession with Harry Hart was getting out of control. Hell, the guy was dead, and Eggsy was in his living-room, wearing his dressing gown, and was reading a book for the only pleasure of having some sort of access to his thoughts.

He put down the book and went to bed.

 

He woke up at three in the morning, with a clear head and the sudden realization that it wasn’t what was bothering him. The notes he had found for weeks on his kitchen table were written in Harry’s handwriting.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'd like to thank my fantastic Beta FRANZI for her work, you can find her on tumblr: http://marvelousagentcarter.tumblr.com
> 
> She's perfect and this chapter would be awful without her.
> 
> I hope you'll like it <3

 

It had been difficult to process the information for a while. Eggsy wondered if his sleepy brain was playing with him. He compared the handwritings, but no doubt: if Harry wasn’t dead, then someone was cruelly playing him, and he found it difficult imagining Merlin or anyone at Kingsman taking the time to imitate Harry’s handwriting just to torment him.

On the other hand, he could very well imagine Harry playing one of his many tricks, like an illusionist, and getting out of the impossible situation. After all, his glasses could very well have absorbed a part of the shock when the bullet hit him.

All of the sudden, all the possibilities, all the scenarios he had forced himself not to think about since then, in order to grieve properly, had come back, invading his mind. Yes, it was possible to survive a bullet in the head- it wasn’t common, but it was possible. Yes, the glasses could have blocked a part of the shock. Or the bullet could have scratched Harry just enough to make him fall, without hurting him seriously.

It was impossible to go back to sleep now; his mind was all over the place, hope filling him with an energy he hadn’t known since Harry’s death.

He spent the whole night ruminating, and he started to get angry. Because if Harry was alive it meant that all that time, he had let him think he was dead, had let him grieve alone. He had let him suffer.

And even if they had parted on a disagreement, he didn’t think he deserved that kind of punishment. No, Harry had been inexplicably cruel, and Eggsy wasn’t going to let it slide.

He was going to make him crawl out of his hole, like a hunter would fumigate a rabbit’s den to make them get out.

The sun was rising when he decided to place the post-it's and the annotated book in front of the living-room camera where it was visible. He went as far as throwing a wicked smile at the camera, in case Harry was currently watching.

Because there were no doubts anymore: the only reason why the cameras had been left in the house was wearing Harry Hart’s name. Because apparently, it was perfectly acceptable for a gentleman to disappear from earth’s surface while still watching- stalking his former work acquaintances. No matter the reasons, it was too much for Eggsy. He was going to show that pretentious snob what an Unwin could do; it was his business now.

He was going to personally take care of it, since Merlin didn’t bother to tell him that he had left the cameras so that a supposedly dead bloke could watch him.

Eggsy then took the time to gather all the necessary items to build an artisanal bomb, with a more than questionable timer improvised with Harry’s old alarm clock, and put it all in the middle of the living-room. He got JB out of the house and returned in to settle down on the couch to finish Harry’s annotated book. Maybe it was a little bit of an exaggerated measure, but after all, by making him think he was dead, Harry had renounced to his possessions.

He was only destroying what the man had already abandoned.

With the time left before the explosion ticking clearly in front of the cameras, he knew that Harry couldn’t ignore what was going on in his own house. It was an ultimatum, a radical method to get him out of hiding. Even if he was at the other end of the planet, he could always warn one of the agents or Merlin that there was a bomb to neutralise, but if he didn’t come in person, Eggsy would move out. He would forget everything about his past with his mentor.

He had limits, and he had reached them.

Harry wanted to play? No problem. But Eggsy wasn’t the lost kid he had met such a long time ago anymore, he was a trained agent, and he wasn’t afraid to take drastic measures. It’s not that he hadn’t been reckless before, but now he had the potential to make real damages if pushed.

He kept turning the pages mechanically, reading without really understanding the lines passing before his eyes, mentally counting down the time until the bomb reduced the neat house, the antique furniture, the lovingly chosen paintings, the Limoges porcelain, the old tapestries to ashes. He didn’t intend to blow himself up, he wasn’t crazy to the point of being in the middle of the explosion- if nobody came, he would get out and get back to his mom’s with JB.

His current job allowed him easily to buy a new house, after all.

He licked the tip of his finger calmly, turned a page.

Tic.

Tac.

He was beating time with his foot, in rhythm with the clock, his heart beating like crazy. With a bit of luck, he was going to see Harry again soon. There was half an hour left; he would have to bring the book with him if he wanted to finish it… But after all, if Harry didn’t come, he preferred to leave it behind him too.

He decided to read the page he had just finished again, trying to concentrate on the meaning of the words. It was a lost cause, he was way too excited to read. Even a book annotated by Harry Hart.

Twenty-five minutes left. He thought guiltily about Mr. Pickles, who was watching him from his little shelf. Maybe he was fucking up by letting Harry’s dog explode. The guy didn’t stuff it to find it back as a puzzle later. And Eggsy knew what Harry was capable of when he was angry. That being said, it was part of the game; he wanted to provoke him, irritate him, make him feel a bit of what he was himself enduring.

Even if deep down, he was hoping to see the real owner of the place before everything went to pieces spread all over the garden.

Tic.

Twenty minutes left. Damn it, it was the third time he read that page, but Mr. Pickles drew his eyes and his attention to him. Maybe he should move that fucking stuffed dog out of the house anyway. But he didn’t know if Harry was still watching him, and he didn’t want the guy to see him doing things that would reveal that Eggsy was still attached to him in one way or another. No, Eggsy was crossed and intended to show it.

He was going to stand his ground.

About fifteen minutes left, and still no intervention. After all, if Harry didn’t care about what was going to happen to his doggie, there was no reason for Eggsy to worry in his place.

On the other hand, he had seen Galahad in action in the church, and he didn’t really want to suffer that kind of anger. He spent a moment remembering- Harry in action; every movement efficient and calculated even thought he had to improvise, his muscles tense and visible under his suit…

Oh, fuck it, he was going to save Mr. Pickles. Or what was left of it.

With a sigh, he put down the book and got up to retrieve the stuffed dog. He felt ridiculous, with that corpse under his arm. A glimpse at the ticking clock indicated that he could as well leave now, since there was about ten minutes left.

In the end, nobody came. Too bad for the house. He tried not to be disappointed- he had been mentally prepared to see Harry again, and the other preferred to see his things explode than to come and face him.

He would regret to never know the stories behind the newspaper front pages stuck up in Harry’s office, but he wouldn’t miss the rest of the decoration, in particular the pinned butterflies framed to the wall: they made him almost as uncomfortable as Mr. Pickles. The least he could say was that the owner of the place had weird taste.

The saddest thing was that he had nothing to retrieve in the house, not really. He had used Harry’s things, never personalized anything. He took his glasses and decided to take with him his first suit, the one that had been tailored for him, a few more suits he had stolen to Harry and his favorite cufflinks before leaving.

He didn’t linger to give a last look at the house- after all, he was certain that hours and hours of video were at the headquarters, ready to be watched in case of nostalgia.

The keys were lying around on the pedestal table in the entrance and he almost took them by habit before remembering than once the door would explode, no one would need a key to get in.

He opened the door with difficulty, his arms full of suits and Mr. Pickles, and stopped. At the bottom of the stairs, in front of the doorstep and definitively looking angry, was Harry.

“May I ask where you were taking my dog?”

Eggsy repressed a nervous laugh. He just put a hand-made bomb in his house, they hadn’t seen each other since Harry took a bullet right in the face and the guy was bothering him because he was preventing his dog’s fur from scorching?

“You look good”, he answered, restraining himself from adding “for a guy who’s been dead for months”. He was pretty proud of his self-control- it seemed that his education at Kingsman’s had taught him a few things, after all.

But the fact was that Harry looked like anything but a bloke who had escaped from the skin of his teeth, and by still unexplained means, a 9mm bullet. He didn’t have a single hair out of place, not a single drop of sweat to indicate that he just came in precipitation; he even had a new tailored suit, the bastard- probably made by one of Kingsman’s tailors.

Eggsy really was the last to know, on this one.

Without answering, Harry briskly climbed the steps- Eggsy tried not to marvel at the suppleness and quickness he had demonstrated, unexpected for a man of his age- and walked by him, entering with a vivacious and flexible pace in the house.

“Harry, wait, there is less than two minutes left…”

“It’s plenty enough”, answered the ex-agent with self-confidence.

Shit. He had done the bomb himself, and even if it was an artisanal one, he strongly doubted that Harry would be able to neutralize it in time. The git had survived bullet just to come and make his pretty face explode. Leaving his suits and Mr. Pickles on the doorstep without any consideration, he caught up with Harry and gripped his sleeve to stop him.

“Let me, you won’t be able to do it alone.”

Harry gave him a dark look, and Eggsy noted that he shall never again doubt his mentor’s capacities. All the same, he didn’t intend to make a new tapestry in the living-room with his entrails, so he had to intervene.

“I’m serious, I installed one of the systems Merlin created in the clock, you won’t be able to unplug it just like that… There is a code to enter, too.”

“Or you could stop using Merlin’s timer systems to try to make our house explode every time you’re having a nervous breakdown.”

It shut Eggsy up pretty well. It wasn’t the culpability of misusing Kingsman’s technology, but the fact that Harry referred to the house like it was theirs. Like they had lived together for months- and all in all, maybe it was how Harry was seeing things, after placing notes in it and spending so much time watching it.

Who knew what the old maniac had done in here when Eggsy wasn’t there- dusting, probably. He pushed away a vision of Harry sleeping in his sheets while he was away on a mission and tried to see over his shoulder how he was doing with the bomb.

There were forty-five seconds left.

Definitely not enough time to get away unharmed if they weren’t going out now.

But of course, Harry preferred to explore the wires with a contemplative face, like he had all the time in the world. It was beginning to stress Eggsy out.

“Listen, if you could just let me…”

Harry brushed his hands away with an indolent gesture and typed the right code at the first attempt, with the tip of his fingers. Daisy’s birthday.

The bastard knew him better than he had thought.

The countdown stopped at ten seconds and Harry got up calmly, brushing the wrinkles on his suit before facing him, his expression severe.

“I can’t say that it was a gentlemanly thing to do”, he noted with a condemning tone.

“Spying on people isn’t either.”

“I was looking after you! And with good reason, since as soon as you get the occasion you try to go away with Mr. Pickles under the arm!”

So, Harry was once again fixated on his stuffed companion. He needed to sort out his priorities.

“I could very well have dumped it weeks ago, I thought you were dead, fuck!”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows a bit more.

“I’d appreciate if you could not use that kind of language, Eggsy.”

The young man sneered. It was surreal.

“Or what? You’re going to disappear again?”

“Don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know the answer. And trust me, you don’t want to know. I lived here for twenty years, Eggsy! Twenty years! If I’m not mistaken, I already owe you a good reprimand for giving up on the final exam to become Lancelot.”

It was too much. The dude was buggin’ him about his stuffed dog, but _Eggsy_ should have shot JB?

“Go fuck yourself, Harry”, he said before turning heels. He was going to get his dog and suits back and never put a foot in here again. At least, it was what he had planned to do before a hand of steel grasped his arm and stopped him.

“Never talk to me like that again”, Harry ordered in a growling, rough voice, sending shivers down his spine. His voice alone was an indication that the bloke was dangerous.

“I shouldn’t talk to you at all anymore, that’s what you deserve”, he said back with a voice a bit less firm than he would have wanted.

The grip on his arm tightened again, and he was almost sure that he would have a finger-shaped bruise tomorrow. Strangely, it didn’t bother him. He decided that it was because after the disappearance of his mentor, he was ready to get anything from him with gratitude, bruises included, as crazy as it seemed.

It surely was the relief talking.

“Stop being a child, Eggsy.”

“Then stop behave like you were my father”, he answered back, without thinking about the fact that it was as sensitive a subject for Harry as it was for him.

With a firm grip on his arm, Harry pulled him nearly against him, his face centimeters from Eggsy’s, suddenly menacing. Eggsy’s heart started beating faster- he never had been afraid of Harry until then, but he had to admit that it was thrilling, feeling the adrenalin growing inside him.

Maybe he should provoke the old guy more often. It was better than jumping with a parachute.

“If I had been your father, you’d have received way more spanking, believe me.”

“That’s your punishment, if I don’t talk posh enough for ya?”

He tried to employ a light tone, to look like he was teasing, but actually the picture in his head made his blood sing. So maybe he had a thing for Harry roughing him up a bit, but it wasn’t the most surprising thing to happen to him these days.

He could handle the situation.

“Maybe”, answered Harry in a neutral voice, staring at him with an inscrutable look, gauging him.

Or, more tempting, he could let Harry handle the situation. A situation he already seemed to have in hands- incidentally Eggsy was going to have his arm’s blood flow cut, if things carried on like that.

“I don’t know, it seems dangerous- at your age, wouldn’t you risk spraining a muscle? Hurting your hand?” he tried with a jeering voice. “I have a pretty firm arse.” He was trying to rile him up, to provoke him. He had had a taste of adrenaline and wanted more, just a bit more.

Harry sighed, releasing his arm- and all of a sudden, the tension disappeared. Eggsy tried to conceal his disappointment while Harry stepped back.

“Since you had planned to… get rid of the house, I assume that I can come back to live in here?”

Eggsy gulped.

“With me?”

“I thought you had another place to live, since you were so eager to dismantle the walls.”

Eggsy lowered his head. No, not really. That being said, he couldn’t deprive Harry of his house. The other one seemed to understand by watching his face that he never thought about it- he had acted impulsively, once again.

“Maybe I could take the guest room, until I find another flat?”

Harry’s face closed up.

“No, I myself have a small apartment. I can stay here for a while, I’m not in a hurry. You can live here until you find another place. You should see if Merlin can help you in your research.”

Eggsy forced a smile. It was very generous of Harry, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter seeing how much the guy was reticent at the idea of sharing the same space as him, even temporarily.

“Thanks, Harry”, he said faintly.

A few civilities later, Harry was leaving with Mr. Pickles to his mysterious apartment, like he only came for tea, like they had parted just the day before- Eggsy tried not to be hurt by the fact that he didn’t tell him where said apartment was. It took away the possibility of coming and provoke Harry at his place.

That said, the cameras were still in place and it was entirely possible that he was still watched…

He’d never thought that he could have a reunion with Harry, even less a reunion as strange as this one, but he had discovered that he really, really wanted to provoke the kind of reaction his mentor had when he didn’t talk politely enough to him. That snob.

He didn’t know why he had felt such adrenaline, an excitement better than the one he felt even during the more risky missions. He didn’t care about the reason, he just knew that he wanted to feel that again.

And if he had to provoke Harry in any way possible for that, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. He knew perfectly how to be a git, and he would use his talent without hesitation.

Harry Hart should take the most of his last resting days, because what was waiting for him was going to be something.

After all… He already owed him a punishment for failing the Lancelot test.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank again my beta FRANZI for her fabulous work. As you know, I'm french, and without her work that fic wouldn't be the same.
> 
> You can all go to her tumblr: http://marvelousagentcarter.tumblr.com
> 
> Or come and chat with me: http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com
> 
> ENJOY!

« What do you mean, without getting fired ? »

 

 

Merlin was sporting his most suspicious expression, and he was right to do so. Eggsy was definitively looking for trouble, but absolutely not the kind Merlin was suspecting. He should have asked the question earlier, before Merlin had his fifth cup of coffee and woke up entirely. The damn Kingsman agents were all way too paranoid to be easily fooled.

 

“Yeah, let’s say I screw up during a mission, I wouldn’t want to get fired afterwards. That’s why I want to know the limits.”

 

He formulated his ask with his most innocent face on and tried to look like a perfect agent, an agent trying very hard not to make any mistake. Merlin’s face told him that he more accurately looked like someone plotting something and didn’t want too much reproach afterwards.

He totally blamed Harry. He was his mentor; he should have taught him how to have a better poker-face. And also, he shouldn’t have mentioned a punishment.

He should have known that it would only tempt someone like Eggsy.

 

“I want things to be very clear. You’re a Kingsman agent. You don’t fuck up during a mission, or you won’t end up fired, but dead.”

 

He lowered his head to disguise his disappointment and attempted to look sheepish. Merlin didn’t buy it.

 

“No fuck-up. Not even one. You execute the orders, you finish the mission and you come back home. That’s what you were trained to do”, he added while patting his shoulder.

 

Eggsy nodded and left the office. He should have seen it coming and send Roxy in his place. She was known for her habit to follow the rules, and Merlin would have believed that she was just over-zealous. Whatever Merlin said, there must be some rules written down somewhere, some of them possible to transgress without a big remonstrance… But that ship had sailed.

He decided to walk home to busy himself. He needed to find new ideas to provoke Harry, outside of his Kingsman’s missions. And Merlin was right, it could have been a dangerous idea.

He wondered if Merlin knew that he almost blew up Harry’s house- it would explain the fact that he looked even more disapproving than usual.

 

With a swift pace, he crossed the streets separating him from the house, trying to find something that would rile Harry up. Replacing all his posh teas by cheap individual plastic sachets? No, it would take too much time for Harry to notice, Eggsy would be dead from impatience before that.

Maybe he should try to find out where the guy lived, and do all the classic Halloween tricks  - eggs and flour on his car, toilet paper in the trees… But if it was an apartment, then maybe the car was in an underground garage, and he probably didn’t even have trees.

He could always kidnap Mr. Pickles, but he valued his life. No, he had to find something better.

 

It only was when he arrived at his house-no, at Harry’s- that he found the obvious solution.

 

In order to get punished, one has to disobey a direct order. Preferably in an outrageously conspicuous way. Incidentally, Harry did give him one by asking him to find a new place to live, advising him to ask Merlin’s help, even. It was a pretty clear desire- a desire he could go against easily and without provoking any catastrophe.

 

He was going to settle down in his house. Definitively. The times when he didn’t dare to modify the decoration were over. He turned around and went to buy new items to redecorate.

 

If Harry was still watching the camera feed, he was going to have a big surprise soon.

 

 ______________

 

 

The framed butterflies took on a hell lot of space in the outside bin, and he regretted not taking them out of their frames so that he could use them to frame his posters with later. The problem was, it wasn’t the right size.

Anyway, the binman would take care of it sooner or later. He was pretty proud of himself: in the office the journal articles corresponding to his missions presided proudly alongside Harry’s. He thought the blending was very nice- however, he shouldn’t have added that Ikea seat on the other side of the desk.

He had the idea of being able to face Harry if he came back, being able to work together on the same desk, but the damn seat was killing his back and soon he had to use Harry’s again.

 

By the bye, he wasn’t sure if Harry would come back to live here as long as Eggsy was in the place- it had all been speculation, and a sort of fantasy he enjoyed, too.

 

Since he had known that Harry was back, he hadn’t been able to see the house in the same way. Couldn’t help imagining his mentor with him in every room: in the morning taking his tea with him, like they had once- Eggsy had spent the night  in the guestroom when he had stayed a bit late the previous evening. Now he was seeing Harry everywhere, in every corner of the house.

He imagined bumping into Harry exiting the shower, dressed with just a towel around the hips.

He imagined Harry pressing him against a wall with force and fury after he had "inadvertently”  broken one of his precious vases, a fantasy that had provoked an erection every time .

 

Anyway, Eggsy had spent some time masturbating, these last few days.

 

He had to find a solution, and the ideal solution would be to find  that tension between him and Harry again, and to get what he wanted.

 

That’s probably what encouraged him to put his things everywhere in the house, especially his CD collection and a stereo system on the sacrosanct shelf usually dedicated to Mr. Pickles.

 

The first day passed, without any news from Harry, and Eggsy changed the sofa covers. He couldn’t stand their old-fashioned look.

Forty-eight hours later, he had moved all of his old tracking pants and jeans in Harry’s closet. Thinking back, he could have done it earlier, when he had moved in after Valentine’s attack.

Still a big radio silence, and when Roxy came to see him she glanced judgmentally at the obvious changes in the decoration, but didn’t say anything. However, Eggsy hadn’t mentioned his encounter with Harry to her - he deduced that someone else had told her the guy was alive.

He wasn’t deluding himself: in a spy agency, it was very difficult to keep a secret. The fact that Harry was able to hide that he was alive for so long was the proof of his talent.

 

But once again, Eggsy had never questioned his death, making it easy for Harry to disappear. He had never looked for another answer, shut away in pain and grief. He tried not to feel guilty, but he couldn’t help but feeling the need to be punished in a way or another by Harry for that. He couldn’t imagine his mentor’s reaction if he was to learn that Eggsy never questioned, not even once, what they told him- even if there never had been a funeral, or an article in the newspapers. He had believed everything without a doubt.

For that mistake, he couldn’t see any possible forgiveness. He wanted Harry to mark him in order to remind him how naively, how lightly he had acted. That being said, if said mark could take the form of an ache on his arse renewed every day with care, it would be perfect.

 

He realized suddenly that he didn’t know if he wanted that ache to be due to a fuck so rough that he wouldn’t be able to sit without feeling it, or if he wanted a more concrete mark, linked more directly to the concept of punishment. Something like a spanking mark.

 

To take his mind off it and avoid having to wank for the second time this day, he decided to continue his redecoration work. He didn’t want to change everything- he appreciated most of the things here, but he wanted to bring a bit of himself in the house, too.

 

Maybe if Harry ended up throwing him out manu militari, he would still keep the modifications. Maybe it would make him think of Eggsy.

 

He bought a new set of sheets. If he chose them in accordance with Harry’s complexion, fantasizing about the way they would highlight his skin, it was his problem. Nobody would know.

 

A week later, he was done with the renovations and still hadn’t heard from his mentor, when Merlin called him to make him go to Russia for a mission. Nothing thrilling, but Eggsy was still reluctant to go, afraid of missing a visit from Harry, which was ridiculous given that the bloke had camera access that would warn him about Galahad’s absence.

 

And it was without counting on the fact that Merlin was maybe telling him everything about Kingsman’s business and would in this case inform him that a mission in Russia had required Eggsy to leave.

 

It was only for a few days, he tried to reassure himself while leaving. The mission was pretty simple, so he was the only agent sent on the field. He needed to get as much information as possible on a member of the Norwegian mafia during a meeting with some Russian thugs, and Eggsy knew that he had a limited timespan to do so.

 

It was just that he didn’t like to leave Harry- every time,  he was convinced that he wouldn’t see him again. After that time when Harry had beaten his stepfather’s gang is the old bar, Eggsy never stopped thinking about the guy, and yet he was certain that he had seen him for the last time this day.

When Harry went to interrogate Pr. Arnold and had been caught up in the chip’s explosion, Eggsy once again had wondered if he was going to see him again.

And this was without mentioning the church incident.

 

So he went to Russia with the intention to finish his mission as soon as possible, and to get back home quickly.

 

And that wasn’t an easy thing when the mission was to collect information. But Eggsy has his methods: technically, Merlin never imposed him a _modus operanti_ , so he considered that he had free reign.

Incidentally, it had been a long time since he had had the occasion to use a sniper. He chose an M21 riffle and positioned himself on the roof in front of the Norwegian target’s hostel bedroom; an hour later, the target was dead, the royal suite he was in had been searched and Eggsy was coming home with more information he could have had if he had used a more discreet way.

 

Merlin profusely gave him hell during the way back home- he supposedly didn’t have to kill the Mafioso twat who, however, spent a lot of time in front of his windows for a guy who wanted to be alive-; but at least he had accomplished the mission in record time: transportation included, less than twenty-four hours.

And for Eggsy, it was all that counted.

 

After a quick debrief, he ran home- eager to be under Harry’s eyes again, in front of the cameras, under his watch.

He still had to fill some reports to justify the death of his target, but he had decided to do it from his office rather than from the headquarters. He headed up directly to the office, whistling, and started his report.

For ten good minutes he worked without rest, but after a while he began to feel uneasy. Something in the room was different, didn’t fit. He tried to concentrate on the report- he probably wasn’t used to the changes he made in the office yet. He just had to take some time to adjust, to get used to see his own newspaper front pages framed to the wall… He lifted his head suddenly, breathless.

He had put them on the wall without formality, and he certainly didn’t frame them neatly.

 

And he knew only one manic snob enough to pay attention to that kind of details- Harry. Harry Hart came here, saw the modifications Eggsy made and instead of throwing it all away, he had carefully framed the articles.

 

He got up, his heart beating fast and the report forgotten, and rushed into the nearest room: his bedroom. His things had been perfectly piled up, his old tracking pants ironed instead of being shoved at the end of a drawer. The sheets looked the same. He touched them, marveling at the idea that Harry had let them be- and no, they felt different. The color was the same, but these one were Egyptian cotton, like the label indicated.

 

He could hardly believe it. Harry had spent a lot of time preparing that. He had taken his time, waiting for Eggsy to be on a mission to set it all up. But more than that, what was touching was the significance of the gesture: Eggsy had wanted to provoke him, but Harry had accepted him. Harry had made a place for him in his house.

 

He ran downstairs to see if there were more modifications in the living-room and the kitchen, and stopped when he saw Harry settled in one of the living-room armchairs, reading peacefully, like nothing happened.

That demonstration of phlegm was typical, and was what had pushed Eggsy to rile him up, to see him being out of control, savage, violent again.

 

“Harry”, he greeted. The other kept reading quietly, finished his page before getting up- his long legs while unfolding revealing Tweety & Sylvester socks- and shook his hand in a pretty formal way for a bloke wearing Cartoons characters on his ankles.

 

“Eggsy”.

 

The contact was brief and Eggsy regretted that Harry’s handshake wasn’t firmer, didn’t clasp him. At least, he did smell Harry’s cologne, a small comfort. He had missed him.

 

“You didn’t change the sofa covers”, he noticed with a smile, to distract himself.

 

“They were, surprisingly, chosen with taste.”

 

“Thanks…” Eggsy answered, feeling that it wasn’t completely a compliment. He tried to see if Mr.Pickles was back at his usual place, but the door was closed. There was no way to know if Harry intended to come back live here, then. Not without asking directly, and Eggsy wondered if it wasn’t done on purpose. As a Kingsman, he couldn’t afford to fall for such a blatant trap; it would be as absurd as Harry asking him if he had decided to move in here.

 

Some things went without saying.

 

On the other hand, some questions were still worth asking.

 

“How did you know that I had finished my mission already?”

 

“I’m afraid Merlin insists on the fact that I should return to Kingsman, and so he tells me all about the current missions.”

 

Bloody Merlin. The guy pulled all the strings. Eggsy briefly glanced at the library where a camera usually was. It had disappeared. Harry was coming back to live here with him, then.

 

“Fortunately, it doesn’t look like he wants to videotape your private life”, he said ironically, nodding to the empty space. Harry smiled.

 

“Merlin hadn’t had access to these cameras for a long time.”

 

“And why?”

 

“Because you were walking around naked between the bathroom and the bedroom after every shower”, Harry explained in a neutral tone, imperturbable.

 

Eggsy gulped. Merlin didn’t have access to the cameras, but Harry had left them.

 

“And I suppose you left them here for my protection.”

 

“Obviously”, Harry answered calmly. “I would never use my position to do anything that could make you uncomfortable.”

 

“I’m pretty comfortable when naked”, Eggsy answered without thinking. Shit. So, now that it was said, there was nothing stopping him. “You’ll see that soon enough, now that you’re back.”

 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to make some new rules. First of all, I intend to get my bedroom back.”

 

Eggsy squinted his eyes. No, it would not do. He’d prefer by far to share a bed. After all, it was something that must happen sometimes, on missions. No? A platonic bedsharing. No homo and all that. Perfectly doable.

 

“I broke the bed base in the guestroom”, he lied. “T’s a fucking shame”, he added with his most innocent look.

 

“Did you know your eyebrows move, when you’re lying?” asked Harry conversationally.

 

“I still can get a machete and take care of it now”, he suggested. “But maybe we should keep it intact, in case Roxy decides to spend the night one day.”

 

Harry took off his glasses and pinched the base of his nose.

 

“I’d like to make something clear. I won’t touch you, Eggsy.”

 

“I get nightmares at night”, he answered. It was true, and Harry knew it, like he knew that it only was a pretext. But Eggsy knew that Harry wouldn’t have the guts to point the fact that it was an excuse, because the nightmares were all related to him, and to the day when Eggsy thought he had seen him die in front of that fucking church.

Guilt, like Eggsy thought, prevented Harry from protesting.

 

“Right. But at the first misconduct, you’re going to the guestroom.”

 

Eggsy mentally noted to put the machete under the bed frame within easy reach, just in case, and smiled at him. Harry knew how bad at following orders he was, though. It was, he thought, his first mistake. He would give in one day.

 

“High-fives!”

 

“No, Eggsy, I don’t do that kind of thing.”

 

He shrugged. He didn’t care, because tonight, he was going to sleep next to Harry. In Egyptian cotton sheets.

 

In his eyes, it was the confirmation that disobeying would only bring very, very good things in his life.

He couldn’t wait to put that theory in practice.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I wanna thank my wonderful beta FRANZI who did an amazing work here!  
> She also have a super nice tumblr ://http.marvelousagentcatrer.tumbr.com so don't hésitate to congrats her!

 

 

Eggsy’s behaviour in bed was exemplary and for now matched perfectly Harry’s expectations. Like any self-respecting former delinquent, he knew exactly the limits he could cross and the ones he had to respect, and how to respect a sort of balance in his transgressions to not startle his prey and make it flee.

 

He knew he had to go slowly, or Harry would send him back to his mother’s pronto and all his plans would be wasted.

 

Therefore his nights were full of intense frustration, of sheets as soft as a caress against his skin, wakening his nerves with every move. Harry’s pricy cologne’s scent,  gradually invading the bed, didn’t help; but he stood his ground and masturbated extremely loudly in the adjacent bathroom to compensate.

 

It didn’t prevent him to wake every morning with a near-painful hard-on. Refraining to press himself against Harry’s sleeping body was a real ordeal, especially as the domestic atmosphere, added to his still sleepy brain made the temptation unbearable. But Eggsy was a Kingsman and had to resist to way more difficult trials, so he waited patiently. He waited and woke Harry up daily with his moans barely covered by the sound of the running water, and inevitably exited the bathroom without drying himself, a towel barely tied around his waist.

If said towel sometimes fell, then, it wasn’t his fault. He just hoped that Harry enjoyed the sight.

 

He’d never imagined that his mentor was the kind to linger in bed, but either he took the habit after his anticipated retirement, or it was because of his age; anyway, Eggsy always was the first up and even when he was ready Harry was still lying in bed, struggling against sleep to wake up.

It was the most adorable thing in the world, seeing Harry with his eyes squinted by sleep.

 

Now, not only Eggsy wanted to get fucked against a wall, but he also had a physical need to be embraced by Harry’s arms and warmth and to never move again. He was a lost cause.

 

That’s also why he never tried anything at night with Harry- he wanted as much to be punished as he wanted to please, satisfy. He wanted to seduce Harry, and also to destabilize him enough to make him lose control. He wanted all at once, all from Harry, everything he could offer.

 

The first days, he was therefore very careful, already amazed to be able to share his days, his bed, the house with his mentor. It was like a dream come true and he was savoring it as much as he could before doing anything.

 

But things were very quiet at Kingsman, too quiet for him, and he started to get bored, unoccupied as he was. He couldn’t help but think about all the little stunts he could pull to provoke Harry, and inevitably, three days later he lost control.

It was nothing, at first; one evening, he just let his clothes on the floor after undressing. Harry sighed.

 

“You hadn’t had a mission for days, so you’re not going to tell me you’re too tired to fold your clothes, yes?”

 

“Sorry, mister Fussy, I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.”

 

He clearly wanted to push Harry out of his comfort zone.

 

“I’d rather have you taking care of it now.”

 

“Do it yourself, if it bothers you so much”, he answered nonchalantly as he was settling in bed. Harry, who was already lying down and probably wanted to stay comfortably under the sheets, growled.

 

“I’m not your mother, Eggsy.”

 

“I know, I know, or I would have received a punishment a long time ago.”

 

By the way, it was starting to get on his nerves. Why was Harry so stubborn? He could see in his eyes, when he was watching him dress up, that the guy wanted him too. There was no reason for them not to have some fun together.

 

“Eggsy…” menaced Harry. “We already talked about it.”

 

“Didn’t bothered ya’ the last time. I had marvelous marks on the arm for three days. Reminded me of you”, he answered, spreading his legs on the bed, one of his feet knocking Harry’s shin. Harry gulped noisily.

Ah! He wasn’t that indifferent.

 

But instead of reprimanding him, he got up and started to fold conscientiously his clothes, his underwear included.

 

“Are you going to fold my clothes every night, if I leave them lying around again?”

 

“Would you prefer if I’d throw them out, to teach you a lesson?”

 

“You know what I’d prefer”, he mumbled, watching Harry coming back to bed. The bloke didn’t even answer and turned off the light.

 

Frustrated and unsatisfied, Eggsy wasn’t tired. He turned and turned around in bed, knocking against Harry sometimes because if he couldn’t sleep, there was no reason his mentor could. Seriously, he wasn’t asking for much!

It wasn’t like it had been a chore, the last time Harry had to put him back in his place. He couldn’t stand this new impassive attitude.

 

“Harry, I can’t sleep”, he whispered when he saw that the other wasn’t reacting to his bumping.

 

“I couldn’t tell”, Harry retorted drily.

 

“My feet are cold”, he lied and pressed them against Harry’s, just for the pleasure to piss him off and to see if it would make the very honorable Mr. Hart jump. Unfortunately, as his feet were perfectly warm, he didn’t startle his bed partner.

 

Harry kept lying down passively, letting Eggsy brush his feet against his for a moment before interrupting him by gripping his ankles between his.

 

“Stop fidgeting.”

 

It was a direct order, but this time Eggsy didn’t want to disobey. Something powerful and commanding in Harry’s firm voice had just made his throat dry and his heart beat increase.

Or it was having his feet imprisoned, firmly gripped, that satisfied him and relieved a bit of that need to be put in his place- a need that had been bothering him for too long, now.

 

Suddenly, he felt just right. He didn’t even dare answering, afraid of breaking the moment, afraid that it would make Harry release his feet; a fear to be abandoned, alone and frustrated, prevented him to move and even to breathe too loudly.

 

He stayed in the dark for long minutes, and Harry still didn’t move, his grip very firm on him even though his body was still carefully away from Eggsy. It was far from a romantic embrace in bed; the contact was firm but concentrated on a very little part of their bodies, making it very intense.

It was like a mouthful of fresh water given to someone dying of thirst in the desert: he was grateful like he rarely had been but couldn’t help but wanting more. Except that he knew that by asking for more now, he was risking Harry taking back what he had given.

 

So he fell asleep like that, his feet intertwined with Harry’s legs, feeling the thin hair of his ankles tickling his toes, feeling the long bones pressed against his- and he knew that maybe the pressure, with time, would allow a precious mark, a bruise, to appear on his feet.

He surrendered to sleep and dreamt about Harry marking his body once again.

 

 ____________________

 

He woke up alone, frustrated, Harry already up and gone for his morning run. At first, he thought he had slept later than usual, but a glimpse at the alarm clock indicated him that once more it was the other who had preferred to flee.

 

Still not really awake, he glanced at his feet: one of them sported a light bruise on the side, where Harry’s ankle bone had gripped him so hard the day before. It already was a comfort. To bruise him without kicking him directly, they must have spent a great part of the night in that position- perhaps even all the night.

Maybe it was what had made Harry flee from the bed that early.

 

It had to stop, he couldn’t stand to see the older man avoiding him anymore. Eggsy wanted results, and he didn’t care for subtlety. He took a quick shower, deciding to stay barefoot all day to show off the mark he was sporting with pride.

He wanted to be marked by Harry, to be his, completely. He certainly didn’t want to be his flat mate, or his protégé, and he was going to do everything for Harry to know that without possible doubt.

 

That’s how when Harry came back from his run, he found Eggsy cutting off JB’s claws.

 

“I thought you didn’t want to cut his claws, even if it was a risk for the furniture?”

 

Eggsy shrugged and rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a small claw mark.

 

“I wanted to scoop him up in my arms, and that’s what I got. I don’t intend to be marked by anyone but you”, he said in a calm voice. Harry stood a few seconds at the doorstep, still out of breath and probably a bit shocked by what he just heard.

 

“I never marked you. Unless you count the medallion I offered you like….”

 

“Well, in fact, you did”, Eggsy interrupted. “Bruises on my arm the other day, like I told you yesterday, and a bruise on my foot last night. I know it’s not much, but I think it’s still a good start…”

 

“I told you I don’t intend to touch you.”

 

“If you don’t want to claw me, I don’t see why JB could.”

 

“You’re being ridiculous”, Harry answered as he went up to the bathroom, but with his voice still breathless from his run, the words had considerably lost their impact and Eggsy decided to consider this as an encouragement.

 

He decided to put back his plan A in place: being a twat deserving a good lesson and pray for Harry not to resist for too long. Their conversation alone had made his mouth water. Imagining Harry clawing him- in any circumstances…

He couldn’t help the small shivering along his spine as he imagined Harry clawing his back in bed, marking his body with his teeth, manhandling him to fuck him raw, putting lovebites along his back, one hand firmly pressed against the curve of one of his asscheeks…

 

He had to interrupt his line of thought to avoid having to take another shower, but his goal was clearer and clearer in his head.

 

Eggsy knew exactly what he wanted.

 

And to obtain it, he would have to fight. And more so, he would have to ask for Merlin’s help. After all, the dirty secretive bastard owed him one or two favours.

 

That’s how Harry and Eggsy were summoned to Kingsman’s headquarters the next morning, and asked to chaperon the freefly test of the new recruits.

Only, at Eggsy’s suggestion, their performance would certainly be better if the two agents were to accompany them during the jump. It wasn’t at all how the test usually went, precisely because the recruits wouldn’t act naturally, and would try to impress the present agents instead.

But Merlin owed Eggsy one, and Harry would never act against a Kingsman’s order, whatever said order was, so they went with the others in the helicopter- Harry still in his ridiculous costume, which would probably be a mess and good to throw away once the test ended, and Eggsy in tracking pants he didn’t care about and wasn’t afraid to get muddy. They made a weird pair, if the looks thrown at them by the recruits were anything to go by.

The most important thing, for Eggsy, was that Harry was throwing his tracking pants murdering looks, probably judging that Kingsman agents should be a better example for the recruits. Eggsy hoped that it would owe him a little remonstrance, but except for Harry’s heavy looks, the dude said nothing. Maybe he was keeping it for they would be alone, at home?

 

They watched the recruits jumping one after the other and they went last. Before jumping, Eggsy whispered:

 

“You know that for this test, someone doesn’t have a parachute, right?”

 

Harry shook his head with a condescending smile. “No, it’s just what we tell them. I thought you knew this.”

 

“I don’t think the experience is really useful without taking that risk anyway”, he retorted before ripping off his parachute, throwing it away and jumping immediately after.

 

He vaguely heard Harry screaming his name before jumping after him, but the wind was drowning the most of it.

 

He had done it. He had jumped without a parachute, and was now entirely at Harry’s mercy. He had never felt that happy and free in all of his life; he started to laugh. In his earpiece, Merlin reminded him that he was batshit crazy.

It’s just that Merlin didn’t know like him that he could have entire faith in Harry. Nothing would happen to him, even less during a simple training exercise, as long as Harry was there to keep an eye on him.

 

The distance from the ground was flying away, like Harry’s screams. Eggsy let himself fall without trying to grip the other panicked candidate’s hands- they were trying to form a circle and he fell right in the middle of it, Harry just behind him. There was still some distance between them and the ground, it was alright.

 

At least, he was feeling again the adrenaline he had been looking for. And suddenly, he felt a firm grasp around each of his arms, an order screamed to be sure he was heard: “Put your legs around me!”

They were tightly embraced, front to front, he was in Harry’s arms, his body intertwined with his mentor’s- he felt like a freeflying octopus and it was the most beautiful moment of his life.

 

Before deploying the parachute, he felt Harry tightening his grip to keep him against his body despite the shock, and he succeeded. At less than 300 feet from the ground.

Of course, he had succeeded. Eggsy never doubted that he would.

 

Soon, they were calmly floating above the target while the group of novices above them were drifting away- some had opened their parachutes too early, some had tried to grip the hand of someone too far away from them. Eggsy let out a free laugh, happier than ever with Harry holding him tightly with his powerful limbs, like he was never going to let him go again. They had 300 feet of a slow fall to enjoy it, to savour the instant.

 

He tried to share his hilarity:

 

“Imagine the bruises I’ll have tomorrow!”

 

Harry sighed and let his forehead rest against Eggsy’s shoulder with abandon.

 

“Next time, try to stay alive until the next day, you kamikaze.”

 

It did little to calm down Eggsy’s laughs. He felt free and happy. He let the parachute drop them off right in the middle of the target, effortlessly, before disentangling himself from Harry. Honestly, he only did it because Merlin was waiting for them, ready to grade the recruit’s performances.

 

“Were you trying to set a new record, Eggsy?” he asked with a level voice, without looking away from his notebook on which he certainly was scribbling a new record, regardless of what he was saying.

 

“No, just making sure that Galahad hasn’t lost his touch”, he answered with a cocky smile.

 

“Don’t call me that”, Harry corrected drily. “I’m not Galahad anymore.”

 

Merlin interrupted them: “If you could please stop your lover’s quarrel before the kids land here, it would be perfect.”

 

Harry didn’t dignify it with an answer and Eggsy smiled at him victoriously. His plan totally had worked: Harry was angry, his clothes were covered by mud and everybody was seeing them as an old couple.

 

He couldn’t have dreamt of something better. While they were waiting for the recruits to get to the target- most of them by foot- he stepped closer to Harry and whispered:

 

“If I can’t call you Galahad, then what do you suggest? Sweetheart? My dear love?”

 

“One more word and I’ll rip your tongue off, Eggsy”, Harry whispered back.

 

“With your mouth? Wow, that’s kinda kinky, I don’t know if…”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s gather for the debriefing”, interrupted Merlin’s powerful voice, making them to realise that if they hadn’t been whispering, they’d have been the main subject of a lot of talk among the recruits.

 

With an afflicted face, Merlin started enumerating all the mistakes made by the recruits, who never succeeded in landing on the target. Eggsy didn’t bother listening, wondering if they were going to make them go through another test or if none of the recruits were going to stay because of that failure. He tried to look dignified in his muddy, and full of holes clothes.

Merlin asked them all to be there the next morning, so at least no one had been fired after the disastrous test- he must say, in their defence, that they had been distracted by an agent jumping without a parachute on.

 

The bad news was that Harry had a face more blank than usual. This time, Eggsy may have crossed a line.

The return home was pretty silent, awfully long, and every second spend next to a silent and stern Harry was giving him a stomach ache and an unbearable anxiety. Was Harry going to ask him to live elsewhere?

Tell him that he was too young, to rash, that he wasn’t thinking things through enough? Maybe by trying to take things to the next level he had screwed it all up…?

 

The taxi stopped.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope the next chapter will please you. PLEASE KNOW THAT THERE's GONNA BE EXCPLICIT KINKY SEX
> 
> So don't read it if your grandma wouldn't, if you baby cat is loooking at you with innocent eyes or if your boss is asking you what exactly you're reading?
> 
> And don't hesitate to join me on tumblr: ;//http.redandbigbad.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, guys :D
> 
> Thank you all for reading this fic. I'd like to thank Franzi, my beta <3 You can find her tumblr here: http://marvelousagentcarter.tumblr.com
> 
> ENJOY <3

 

 

The taxi arrived home.

 

They entered the house, a heavy silence hanging between them. From Harry emanated a cold, almost palpable rage; the kind of anger Eggsy had tried to cause before, the kind that was exciting him right now.

 

“Go upstairs. Wait for me in the bedroom”, Harry commanded curtly. Eggsy diddn’t know if it was a good sign or not: maybe Harry was going to force him to gather his things and leave.

He decided to resist, trying to look more confident than he really was.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” There was almost rage, barely contained, in Harry’s voice. “I think you will”, he added, and grabbed him by the waist.

He scooped him up and carried him himself in a fireman fashion, and Eggsy’s heart almost exploded in his chest, it was beating so hard. He was upside down and could feel his blood going up his head, beating at his temples a bit more with each step.

When they reached the bedroom, Harry threw him on the bed without care , on his belly.

 

“Now, wait for me here.”

 

“Harry…”

 

“That’s what you wanted, right _? Wait_.”

 

It had the merit to make him shut up. He waited silently, his heart still beating strongly. Was Harry going to give him what he wanted? He had appeared so angry that it seemed not likely.

He listened to the steps going away, then to the crack they made in the stairs when Harry went back. Harry reappeared with his umbrella in hand.

 

“That’s what you wanted, Eggsy? A real punishment? Did you think I was going to spank you like a kid? I’m not your father. I’m a Kingsman agent, I killed more men than you can imagine, and still you’re trying to make me angry?”

 

Eggsy swallowed. He didn’t dare answering, but the sight of the umbrella had awakened a certain interest in him, strangely.

 

He didn’t have the leisure to think about it more, because Harry had taken the umbrella by the ribs and gave him a good and controlled hit with the handle, right on the arse. Controlled, because it was hurting enough to let a mark, without it becoming really painful. He let out a little moan in surprise.

 

“That’s for you little stunt earlier. I forbid you to risk your life for nothing again.”

 

And he stroked again. This time, Eggsy felt that it was firmer, felt the wood of the handle chafing again his jeans, and knew with certainty that he would bear a red mark.

Harry had only given two blows, but it was Eggsy who, lying down, was already breathless. He hadn’t expected to react that much; he could already feel the excitation rising and his cock hardening under the effect of the stimuli, his nose pressed again the pillows smelling like Harry, his arse burning with the mark Harry gave him- the proof of his anger, of the fact that Eggsy had succeeded in making him lose his temper.

 

“That’s for letting your clothes on the floor the other night.”

 

Another blow, firmly given—with expertise. Harry knew how to manipulate his weapons with the greatest precision.

 

“Ah!.. Harry…”

 

“Shut up. I think you talked enough. It’s my turn, now. Undress yourself.”

 

He thought he had misheard and looked at Harry over his shoulder. He looked as serious as he could be, so Eggsy got up, feeling the burn on his butt- a reminder of Harry’s attentions- and got rid of his clothes one by one, until he found himself naked.

His excitement was impossible to hide, but Harry was still bearing a very neutral expression.

 

“Now fold your clothes.”

 

“What?”

 

He was rewarded by a blow of the umbrella’s handle as an answer.

 

“Okay, okay, no need to be like that…”

 

“Obviously I need to, since it’s the only way to make you behave.”

 

Harry was sporting a half-smile, and was caressing the handle with a contemplative face, still well-dressed in his costume, without a hair out of place when Eggsy was entirely naked and at his mercy, with a very obvious erection and a reddened arse Harry could ogle every time he was bending to retrieve his clothes in order to fold them.

It was all very humiliating, and exciting, to be the center of Harry’s attention like this. He was certain that his mentor was watching his every move and that he would receive another hit of the umbrella if he was to fold his socks badly.

He was the center of Harry’s attention, and it felt right, like he was where he should be, at least. It was what he had waited for, what he had wanted so badly.

 

Once he had folded his clothes in a neat pile, he stood at attention and waited to receive more orders. He was ready to obey to Harry’s every wish, would have fell on his knees immediately if his mentor had asked him to suck him. Just that idea was making his mouth water and his erection hardening.

 

The order came quickly:

“Get on the edge of the bed, on your knees.”

 

This time, Eggsy didn’t hesitate one second and whispered a weak “Yes, Harry” before complying. He couldn’t see what Harry was doing behind him, if he intended to smack him again with the umbrella’s handle or if he was going to undress himself too- or if he simply was going to leave and let him here alone, shivering and with his cock as hard as if he was about to come, on the verge of their bed.

The experience was starting well, but Eggsy was still very frustrated because he hadn’t felt any direct contact with Harry, not even once. No kiss, no skin against his… It was maddening and he wondered if he wasn’t going to moan in pleasure if Harry just decided to put a hand on him. His exacerbated nerves were asking for more, and thankfully Harry must have felt that because after a few hesitating seconds, a firm and a bit rough hand came to cup one of Eggsy’s arse cheeks. Eggsy sighed in relief.

Harry’s hand was cool on the burning left by the umbrella, cool as water. Harry caressed him a little, gripped the muscles of his arse like he was testing a new tool, then the contact ceased.

 

“Harry…” Eggsy moaned. He didn’t want it to stop. 

 

“hush…” Harry intimated before administering him a smack with his hand. He could sense the Kingsman’s ring scratching his skin, awakening his nerves. It was all so intense that his hard-on started to be painful. Eggsy lied down a little on the bed, trying to rub himself against the sheets to find some relief.

 

“That’s for moving in without permission”, Harry indicated before administrating another blow, softer, letting his hand lingering and caressing him at the end.

 

Eggsy was now moaning without shame after every blow, his hips starting to move by themselves to find some friction to help him get his release, to make him come.

 

“And that’s for throwing out my butterfly’s collection.” Another hit, firm and sure to let the imprint of the fingers on his skin, made him moan with pleasure. But it was far from the end of it. Harry rubbed his still clothed erection against his arse, and whispered:

 

“You have no idea how long it took to collect of these butterflies… When I saw you throwing them away, I knew I would have to give you a beating.”

 

“Harry…”

 

“Hush, I didn’t give you the authorization to talk.”

 

Eggsy repressed a sigh, trying to bury it in the cushions. Feeling Harry’s reaction, knowing that he was as turned on as he was… It was better than in any of his fantasies. But he still wanted more, even if the rubbing of the pants against his still sore skin was a delicious reminder, he couldn’t help but wanting to feel Harry’s skin against his.

But he wasn’t allowed to beg.

 

And his position didn’t allow him to undo himself his mentor’s belt… He had no control over the situation. If Harry decided that he wasn’t going to go further, it was going to be it, and Eggsy would die of frustration.

 

Like he was reading his mind, Harry moved away. Before Eggsy had the time to protest, he asked:

 

“Wait for me here, don’t move. If you move, I’ll know it, and you won’t be rewarded.”

 

Once again, he stood there waiting for Harry, trying to hear his footsteps. This time, he didn’t go far and only did a quick trip to the bathroom.

When he got back behind him, Eggsy didn’t dare moving, even to see what Harry was going to do.

 

“You did very good, my boy”, Harry praised him. “You didn’t move, and you deserve to be rewarded.”

 

Suddenly, Harry’s hands were once again against his arse. He could feel lube on the digits of one hand and shivered in anticipation.

 

“That’s you reward, even if you don’t really deserve it after what you did today”, Harry added while making a finger slide along his hole, lubricating the entrance by caressing it, without entering him. It was already divine and Eggsy moaned, his cock jerking and twitching under the sudden flow of blood.

 

“If you want more, you’ll have to deserve it.”

 

His finger was still teasing him, making him wild with lust.

 

“Everything, I’d do anything, please, Harry…”

 

“You’ll bring the breakfast in bed every morning.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The finger ceased to massage his anus and Harry removed it completely.

 

“I want you to promise.”

 

“Yes, I promise, Harry, I… Ah!”

 

At least, he felt Harry’s thin and lubricated finger entering him, and it was divine. Like a preview of what his cock could do to him.

 

“Good boy”, Harry murmured in a softer voice. “Keep going like that.”

 

Eggsy’s hips were beginning to roll without his notice, impaling himself on the finger given, looking for friction, trying to find his prostate even if the angle was wrong. He kept going for a while, without need to adjust to the invasion, his muscles entirely relaxed and ready to take it.

 

‘Do you want more?”

 

“Yes, Harry, please…”

 

“You’ll have to promise to throw away that infame seat you put in my office.”

 

“I promise, I hate it too. It hurts my back. By tomorrow, I…”

 

He interrupted himself when he received another finger, and he felt it more this time, fighting against his muscles to enter and relaxing them gently, little by little, in a slow back and forth.

He started to be out of breath, the pleasure increasing. It was better, way better: the feeling of two fingers instead of one, it was more than promising: he could feel that Harry was prepping him, playing with his fingers and scissoring to relax the flesh.

He then knew for sure that he was going to get shagged that night and the thrill made him dizzy. That and Harry’s little game, who knew perfectly that Eggsy would do anything, everything for him.

Just knowing that he was alive was a benediction, and he would do everything he could to make Harry happy now that he had been given a second chance.

 

“Is it okay?”

 

“Yeah, you can add another, please…”

 

“You’re perfect, taking it so good. I’ll add another if you promise to remove your CDs from Mr. Pickles shelf.”

 

Eggsy almost laughed. With two fingers inside of him, Harry was still thinking about the bloody dog. But he really needed more, so he gave in:

 

“Alright, I’ll remove them tomorrow.”

 

Harry removed his fingers and a hit smacked his arse, biting, taking him by surprise.

 

“Ah!”

 

“I told you to promise.”

 

“I promise, fuck, Harry, stop playing with me!”

 

Harry laughed softly behind him and slowly, very slowly, inserted three fingers in him. He felt the burn at first, but it eased down quickly, the pleasure taking its place. With his other hand, Harry forced him to bend over the bed completely and to arch his back a bit to improve the angle, his arse up and at his mercy. A few expert moves later, he found his prostate, making Eggsy a moaning mess covered in sweat, begging him to give him more, more, always more.

 

He was starting to lose it, the fingers in him pressing against his prostate with each move; he was overwhelmed with sensations: the warm presence of Harry’s other hand on his back, the realization that Harry must be hard as rocks too, the soft burn on the skin of his arse… Eggsy was on the verge of coming when Harry stopped.

 

“You have been so good, Eggsy, so obedient…”

 

He heard Harry opening his belt, heart the zip of his pants. The ripping sound of a condom package.

Nothing more. He thought that it was infinitely more sexy to know that he was about to get fucked by Harry, entirely naked when the other was still wearing his perfectly tailored suit.

 

“You deserve a reward”, Harry added before positioning himself behind him, pressing the tip of his cock against him. He penetrated him slowly, beginning with just the tip, then with a slow back and forth started to push deeper and deeper, until he was completely inside Eggsy.

 

He had used a slow rhythm at first to give Eggsy the time to adjust to him, but after he had penetrated him, it was over. He started to fuck him in honest like he couldn’t help himself, all of a sudden and without warning, grabbing his hips for support, making Eggsy’s knees rubbing against the sheets and making the bed crack.

 

Eggsy was breathless because he was moaning so much, Harry’s name on his lips, unable to keep silent. Harry was whispering him praises, telling him how he was good, how he was exactly how Harry had hoped he would be, maybe even better.

Eggsy savored the rhythm, savored Harry’s fingers deeply sunk in his hips and certainly letting their mark too, savored the pleasure increasing in him with every brutal thrust. He savored the smell of their sweat lingering in the air, the noise of their skin slapping together and every groan escaping from Harry’s throat.

 

All these details were like reminders that Harry was alive, and with him. At least, he had succeeded in obtaining what he had thought for a long, too long time impossible to have- especially when he was thinking that Harry was dead. But now he could feel him, well alive, his skin against his and his cock inside him.

 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and started to caress himself in rhythm, when Harry interrupted him.

 

“I don’t think you deserve this, Eggsy.”

 

He whined, frustrated.

 

“Harry, please…”

 

“Let me do it”, Harry commanded, his voice strangely soft. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and Eggsy sighed in relief. It was ten times better than when he was doing it himself.

Harry slowed down the rhythm of his hip thrusts to make them match with the movement of his hand, making the contact more sensual, more intimate. It was almost too much for Eggsy.

 

“Ah… Harry… I won’t last long.”

 

Harry suddenly stopped and bent over to kiss one of his shoulders, his neck.

 

“You’ll come when I’ll tell you to, not before”.

 

If it was possible, it excited Eggsy even more. He tried to contain himself when Harry started again his back and forth, still excruciatingly slow.

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll last long either”, Harry added in a reassuring voice.

 

He felt Harry’s body heat spreading to his body, increasing in him; the sounds of their bodies, of the friction between them was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how Harry was managing to last, when he himself was almost reaching the least of his stamina, all of his muscles tense under the effort of repressing his orgasm.

 

He could feel with a perfect acuteness the long cock sliding inside of him, against his prostate, could feel every inch filling him with a satisfaction that was also related to the fact that Harry was at least his.

 

Or more accurately, he was Harry’s.

 

He always had looked for this feeling of belonging and was just in his place with Harry’s cock filling him perfectly, with Harry’s sweat marking him as surely as his spanking had done; right in his place under him, under his assault, in his place his this bed they were sharing together.

 

Suddenly, he felt like he could accept everything from Harry, felt ready to keep his orgasm at bay for him, to hold it back, to do everything Harry would ask. He started to move faster, impaling himself on that beautiful cock, imposing a desperate rhythm; he couldn’t think of anything but Harry, Harry, Harry.

 

He went harder against Harry’s hips, more and more quick in his movements, his brain empty of anything but the sensations, the groans of his partner; he gripped the sheets to help going harder against Harry, the bed cracking under him.

It was good, so good, but he couldn’t come now; the only important thing was to bring Harry more pleasure, to be good for him, to be the best for him. Under the effort, he could hardly breathe, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was to make Harry come.

 

He turned his head to look at him, and nothing could have prepared him for the vision awaiting him- Harry, still dressed, his eyes fixed on him with a rare intensity, his mouth open; his temples shining with sweat and his muscles tense under his suit, his dilated pupils darkening his brown eyes.

 

“Come on, Eggsy… Come, come for me…”

 

Harry was out of breath too, but he still found the force to bend over him to bite his shoulder. Eggsy didn’t know if it was because of the bite, or if it was the direct order that did it for him, but he came suddenly, every thrust bringing a new wave of pleasure.

 

He barely perceived Harry’s groan behind him while he joined him in an intense orgasm a few seconds later.

 

Still under the endorphins, Eggsy didn’t realized that Harry had got up and was coming back from the bathroom with a wet towel, and then started to clean him up.

 

No, what he perceived neatly, was the way the bloke manhandled him to put him in the middle of the bed, settling him comfortably, like Eggsy was weighing nothing, and if he hadn’t just had the best orgasm of his life it would have make him got it up for another round.

 

The second thing he noted was that Harry was the big spoon when he cuddled. They were about to fall asleep when they both received simultaneously a text from Merlin.

 

“Think about putting the glasses elsewhere next time. Traumatised for life. Will never see the umbrella the same way.”

 

They smiled.

 

“Anyway, I’d rather use the umbrella on you than in a fight”, Harry shrugged.

 

That’s how Eggsy Unwin, well-marked propriety of Harry Hart, found himself unable to sit for three weeks. Merlin deplored the fact that he couldn’t send him on missions far away because he wasn’t able to sit, but Harry took great pleasure in coming back as a Kingsman agent to replace him, so Merlin almost didn’t complain. Almost.

 

But since that day, the umbrellas had been removed from the list of Kingsman’s weapons- Eggsy still considered it his greatest achievement, and Harry retrieved all the umbrellas for their personal use.

 

Once, Roxy tried to discover why the umbrellas had been banned, and found that the information had been classified. Eggsy had just winked at her before rejoining Harry in his office.

After all, they still had some umbrellas to use themselves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this!
> 
> Wanna fangirl with me?  
> Come on tumblr: http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to come chat on tumblr (http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com) <3


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